


Prayer

by robynthemagpie_writes



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 12 Days of Blasphemy Challenge (Good Omens), Aziraphale gives God an ultimatum, Blasphemy, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Poetic nonsense, Praise Kink, Prayer, lemme know if i need to up the rating, worship on your knees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21827977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robynthemagpie_writes/pseuds/robynthemagpie_writes
Summary: My offering for the 12 Days Of Blasphemy Challenge. I might write more but I wanted to contribute at least one. Aziraphale prays and shares a secret with The Almighty.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 62
Collections: 12 Days of Blasphemy





	Prayer

Prayer

  1. _prayer (n):_ _a solemn request for help or expression of thanks addressed to God or another deity_
  2. _to pray (v): to speak to a god either privately or in a religious ceremony in order to express love, admiration, or thanks or in order to ask for something_



  
  


To give praise, to give thanks, to show adoration.

To sing songs of love and joy and hope.

To worship, honour, and glorify. 

I haven’t done those things for years; haven’t bent my knees and bowed my head or raised my voice to Her in a long time.

It’s not what you think; I haven’t given up on Her, though maybe She has given up on me. No, it’s not that. 

It’s not that She wouldn’t hear me if I prayed to her at night, whispered out my heart into the darkness on my knees at the bedside. No, it’s not that.

It’s quite the opposite. 

I know that She would hear me, every single murmured word, every barely-breathed utterance, every heartfelt plea. 

And that would be the end of everything.

That would be the best and worst and best thing. 

_ Heavenly Lord on High, I give thanks this day and all the days to come for your strength and wisdom, for your mercy and your guidance, for the wonder of your Creation. Oh Lord, please hear my prayer… _

Let me kiss no lips but yours, kiss them till they bruise the purple of a bishop’s robes.

Let me taste nothing but the sweetness of your mouth, sweeter than that first apple taken by Eve.

Let me draw you into my lungs and live by your essence instead. I want to feel you come alive inside me.

_ Lord, I have disappointed you time and again. I am but a lowly angel, not worthy of your Divine notice, but I beg you to hear me now… _

Let me feel your warm skin on mine, clever hands, searing lips, birdcage chest, muscled thighs.

Let me see how you glow in the lamplight as I expose you to it an inch at a time, see the flush on your cheeks as I whisper my love against you.

Let me trace the edges of you over and over and over again. I want to carve you into my memory.

_ I know that one such as I could never dream to understand your Divine Plan for Mankind, I know the ineffability of that scheme, and I know my place is to serve you, Oh Lord. I beseech you, take pity on your humble servant… _

Let me breathe in the smell of your copper-kettle hair; it is the scent of your skin distilled and made more precious than frankincense. 

Let my hands find their home there amongst the fireglow of it; I would gladly burn my fingers to blistering to satisfy my need for it, would gladly take the pain with the pleasure.

Let me test the softness of it whilst you love the softness of me. I want to love you like this for eternity.

_ My devotion to you has not wavered, and though it has been long since my last discourse with you, I have not forgotten you. I pray that you have not forgotten me and that my service to you has been sufficient… _

Let me pull you close and feel the bones of your hips against mine, feel you firm and ready and wanting.

Let me trace a path along your book-spine back with my fingertips and set your skin to tingling, reminding you of the power of my Grace.

Let my lips follow where my hands have been. Oh, God, let me worship you.

_ Lord, I do not ask for anything, and I have only done as I have been instructed, though I have at times struggled to fulfil your commands. I have always kept my heart open to strangers… _

Let me inhale the scent of the skin at your neck, sample that pepper-hot fragrance that belongs to you and you alone.

Let me taste the dip of your collar bone to see if it burns my tongue, a treasured sin for me to swallow down.

Let me nip the paper-thin skin there, just the smallest pinch, just enough to hear you gasp.

_ I come before you now, Oh Lord, not to ask for anything, nor to beg, nor to share my fears. I come before you to tell you a secret, a secret I have carried in my heart and which I share in hopes of your understanding, of your joy and blessing… _

Let me see you kneeling before me, head bowed and lips adoring me, drawing me in.

Let me know the sea-spray taste of myself on your tongue when you bring it to my mouth again, drawing you in.

Let me have the strength to tell you to stop. Don’t rush this, my dear, we have all night.

_ Lord, I come before you bearing glad tidings. I am in love, have been in love, will be in love, with one you deemed undesirable, irretrievable, unforgivable. In him I have found more goodness and hope and belief than in any other I have encountered… _

Let me lay myself open for your touch, your mouth, your hands, anything my dear, everything for you.

Let me feel the hell-hot heat of you inside me, filling me up with your devotion until I am made of it, until my heart is full to bursting.

Let me feel you move in me. Let me know the power of an earthquake, a landslide, a thunderstorm.

_ I refuse to name it a sin, for love like this can be no sin. I refuse to deny him, for to do so would be to deny his love, and all such love is good. And if you be not happy with my love for him, then I tell you, Lord, that you will lose my love. I do not threaten, I simply speak my truth… _

Let me lie breathless beneath you, copper-kettle hair against my cheek, pepper-hot fragrance clinging to my skin.

Let me hear you cry my name into the waiting night, leaving you like a prayer; from your lips to God’s ears.

Let me kiss my love into your shoulder as I find my release with you. My darling, oh, my Love.

_ He is more precious to me than all the printed words of the world. He grows a garden to make up for the one that we cost you, and I love him for that too. He goes too fast, and I am learning too slowly what that means, but I am catching up. He is the place my heart calls home. You are welcome there too, My Lord, there is room, but if it comes to it, I choose him. I pick his side. I pick our side.  _

_ I pray that you do too. _

  
  



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